


A Knight's Rose

by gelowo93



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Archery, Jousting, M/M, Renaissance Faire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelowo93/pseuds/gelowo93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin didn't expect to enjoy the Renaissance Faire that Will was dragging him to. But then, he didn't expect to catch the attention of one of the knights in the jousting tourney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Knight's Rose

**Author's Note:**

> For madlulzgise on tumblr, who sent me the prompt: It's modern day merthur: Merlin meets Arthur for the first time at the Renaissance Faire. I figure that's vague enough that you can go any direction you want with it (:
> 
> This hasn't been beta-d, and any mistakes are my own. I also apologise if any of the archery stuff is completely wrong, because I have absolutely no experience and all my information came from google.

The crowd jostled around Merlin; people kept trying to push their way to the front but he stood his ground, refusing to move away from his spot at the front. Next to him, Will was glaring at anyone who dared to shove him, while at the same time groaning loudly and muttering under his breath about how much he didn’t want to be there.

“You didn’t have to stay, and it’s not my fault that Vivian stood you up,” Merlin said.

“We’d already paid to get here, hadn’t we? I wasn’t going to waste a bus fare.”

“If you say so.” Merlin’s words were interrupted by loud cheering that he joined in with, clapping. He thought he heard Will grumbling next to him, but Merlin chose to ignore him, his attention focused on the two horses and riders that had just trotted into the arena at opposite ends. Merlin watched the one closest to him; he was wearing a helmet so Merlin couldn’t see his face, along with silver chainmail and armour plating, with a burgundy doublet underneath. He was carrying a lance in one hand – red, with golden spiralling ridges – and attached to his armour, on his left hand side and just under the chin, was a shield, also red, that had a golden dragon painted on it, though the paint was chipped from the previous rounds of the jousting tournament and the dragon was missing a wing.

Merlin didn’t know who this man was, but he had been rooting for him to win from the start. His name was Arthur Pendragon, according to the commentator, and there was something about the way he rode his horse with complete confidence, even managing to make it look graceful, that attracted Merlin’s attention – not that he knew anything about horse riding or jousting, he had only come to the faire because Will had wanted to invite Vivian without it seeming like a date, and now she had ditched them after being supposed to meet them here, and they were left to wander around the Renaissance Faire, not really knowing anything about any of it.

That hadn’t stopped Will from trying to put the effort in beforehand. He was dressed in brown boots and trousers, a grey tunic, with a sleeveless leather jacket, along with some strange matching leather scarf that covered he had found on a market stall, and which Merlin had called his shawl, after which Will hadn’t talked to him again until he had begged Merlin to come with him. Merlin had instantly regretted agreeing, because he had been forced to dress up as well. Will had bought him a brown leather jacket, blue tunic, black cotton trousers, brown boots, and, to Merlin’s horror, a red woollen neckerchief.

“I’m not wearing a scarf, it’s the middle of summer!” Merlin had protested.

“It’s not a scarf, it’s a neckerchief. And come on, it’ll suit you,” Will had replied, and had refused to let it drop until Merlin had finally grabbed the scarf and tied it around his neck, fed up of Will badgering him about it.

“Happy?” Merlin had asked, only to receive Will’s enigmatic smile in return.

Considering he hadn’t wanted to come, Merlin was enjoying himself. They’d briefly walked around some of the stalls earlier, watching the jugglers and dancers and magicians that wandered through the streets, entertaining the crowds. Then, Will had looked at the leaflet they had been given on their way in, discovered that there was a jousting tournament, and dragged Merlin to it. As it turned out, Will didn’t find people charging at each other on horses and trying to strike them with a lance interesting, but Merlin had, and over the last hour or so they had slowly made their way to the front, just in time for the final.

Merlin watched the knight in red and gold trot the length of the arena, placing a hand on the horse’s neck to keep it calm. The knight seemed to be enjoying it, lapping up the attention from the cheering crowds and waving back to them. His opponent, however, was not basking in the adoration from the crowd; he was sat on his horse, still as stone, lance in hand, and ready to start.

Eventually, the red and gold knight went back to his starting position on the opposite end of the arena to his opponent. He waved one last time, before concentrating his attention on his horse and the knight in green and yellow across from him.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the finale of this year’s jousting tournament,” the commentator said, his booming voice amplified by the microphone. “In red and gold, we have Knight Pendragon, the reigning champion-” He was interrupted by cheers “-and his opponent, Knight Valiant.” There was a pause for more cheering, but it was less energetic as that for Pendragon. “Without any further ado, let the match begin!”

A steward on the ground, lowered his brightly coloured flag in one swift movement, and the two horses were racing towards each other, the riders’ gazes focussed solely on each other, lowering their lances as the knights neared one another, separated by nought but the wooden fence.

It was over in seconds. There was a loud crash, both knights hitting their mark, but neither of them falling from the horse, and then they were slowing down. Merlin thought he saw Pendragon wobble, made unsteady by the impact, but he blinked, and the next moment he was fine, turning his horse around and going back for another charge.

It took four more runs before either of the knights was unseated and a winner declared. Both of them had to have their lances replaced after they had shattered, but in the end Pendragon emerged victorious. Merlin joined in with the thunderous cheering and clapping, and the screams of delight quickly turned into wolf whistles when Pendragon took his helmet off, shaking out his hair, and revealing his face to the crowd for the first time.

Will was never going to stop teasing him, because he’d only been cheering for the hottest guy he’d ever seen throughout the entire tournament. Pendragon’s blonde hair was darkened by sweat and plastered to his forehead, and the planes of his face looked as if they’d been chiselled from marble by the most talented of sculptors: his strong jawline, the straight line of his nose, and the fullness of his pink lips. Pendragon did a lap of the arena, the trotting hoof beats adding to the din of the applause, and some members of the audience were throwing flowers as he passed. When he passed by Merlin, he caught a glimpse of sapphire blue eyes, crinkled at the corners from his smile that lit up his face.

Merlin felt a tug on his jacket sleeve.

“Stop drooling over the hot guy in armour. It’s over, can we go now?” Will shouted over the noise of the on-going cheering.

Merlin nodded, and let Will drag him through the crowd that was still trying to push its way to the front. It let them through easily though, and soon they were back in an open space, and Merlin felt he could breathe again without breathing on someone. Not really having a destination in mind, they headed down one of the temporary streets.

The Faire was busier now than it had been earlier, even with a lot of people still at the jousting arena. Merlin and Will had to weave in and out of people lingering at stalls, all dressed in similar clothes to them, or as members of the upper classes, in fine dresses or armour and brightly coloured surcoats. There was a constant cacophony of noise, vendors persuading people to buy their goods, visitors trying to haggle the prices down, a mixture of _oohs_ and _aahs_ whenever they passed  a street magician dressed in jester clothing. At one point they passed a falconry display, where the squawking of the hawks and eagles added to the din, until Will pulled Merlin along, admitting that he had an irrational fear of birds of prey.

By lunchtime, the sun was blazing down on them, and Merlin’s stomach was rumbling. Neither of them had bought anything from the stalls, though Will had been tempted by one of the swords on a weapons stall, until Merlin had asked him how he expected to get home with it, because there was no way he’d be allowed on a bus with it. They stopped at a tent where they were selling hog roast and tankards of ale, and sat down to eat their lunch. Will pulled out the Faire leaflet again.

“It’s just shops selling overpriced old fashioned stuff,” Will muttered, reading the leaflet.

“You know, it’s almost as if you didn’t know what a Renaissance Faire was before you thought it would be a good idea to come here.”

Will threw Merlin a dark look.

“There’re game stalls – _Drench-a-wench_ – horse rides, there’s some performance of Shakespeare starting in ten minutes, but the rest of it is just shops… oh, there’s an archery range. Can we go to the archery range?”

“Why do you want to do archery?”

Will looked offended. “I’m ace at archery. I had a bow and arrow when I was younger.”

Merlin snorted into his ale, instantly regretting it when it went up his nose and he started spluttering and coughing. Will hit him on the back, which made the coughing stop, but nothing would get rid of the constant taste of the rather foul ale in the back of his throat.

“Ugh. You mean you had one of those plastic bows that couldn’t send anything more than a metre.”

“Well, yeah, but I was good at it despite that.”

“Whatever.”

“You never believe anything I say.”

“It’s because you forget that I’ve known you since we were kids, and I remember you breaking that bow and arrow set because you got annoyed that it wouldn’t shoot straight.”

Will was silent for a moment, and Merlin took the opportunity to finish eating and to down the last of his ale.

“We’re still going to the archery thing, though, right?” asked Will.

“Sure, if you want.”

“Excellent.”

Will finished his own hog roast, put the leaflet back in his pocket, and as good as dragged Merlin out of the food tent and down the temporary streets until they reached the far side of the Faire, where the archery range had been set up.

It was five pounds to rent a bow and ten arrows. Because neither Will nor Merlin had done real archery before, they got a brief tutorial from an instructor, telling them how to hold the bow and how to nock the arrow on the string. Merlin did his best to pay attention, but it was a lot of information in five minutes, and he left the tutorial with his head full of random snippets of how to shoot the arrow.

He stepped up to his shooting line, staring at the target twenty metres away. Next to him, Will had already started shooting, and he wasn’t half bad. His first arrow had missed the target, but the next two had managed to hit the black ring. Merlin fumbled with his bow and arrows, nocking it, and pulling the string back to his chin. He released it, and the arrow flew through the air, landing several metres short of the target. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin could see Will grinning at him, obviously amused.

Gritting his teeth, Merlin picked up another arrow, set up for the shot again, and released the arrow, only for the angle to be off this time, and it landed next to the target.

The next three shots he took were the same, with him missing the target. Will had stopped paying attention to him, too busy concentrating on his own target to watch Merlin fail. As he started preparing for another shot, a voice spoke from behind him.

“Your stance is all wrong, stand with your feet pointing away from the target.”

Merlin lowered his bow and turned around. He was shocked to find himself face to face with Arthur Pendragon. He was still wearing the chainmail, but had taken the armour off, and he looked a lot shorted now that he wasn’t sat astride his horse, Merlin thought that he was probably taller than him.

“Err – what?” Merlin said, his brain having turned to mush. Behind Pendragon, there was a group of men dressed in similar chainmail, and Merlin thought he recognised them as other knights who had competed in the jousting.

“Your toes are pointing towards the target, you want them to be either perpendicular to the angle you’re shooting, or pointing away from it.”

“Oh, erm, right.” Merlin shifted his position on the shooting line, raised his bow again, and was ready to release the arrow when Pendragon spoke again.

“You’re holding the bow too tight. You only need to grip it with your forefinger and thumb. Keep your other fingers loose.”

Merlin did as he said, and this time when he realised the arrow, it hit the board that the target was on, but missed the rings by an inch. It was still an improvement.

“Better,” Pendragon said. Merlin glanced behind him to see Pendragon smiling slightly. “Let me help you.”

Merlin stiffened as he felt Pendragon stand behind him, almost touching. Merlin picked up the next arrow, and as he was nocking it to the string, he felt Pendragon’s hand covering his own, making him jump slightly.

“Here, you do it like this, and then hook your fingers on the string, with your index finger above the arrow and the rest below… no, no, don’t use your little finger.” He moved Merlin’s hand until it was in the right position, and then his other hand moved to the bow and Merlin’s hand there. “You don’t need to grip it so tight, you’re tense. You need to relax.”

Merlin tried to relax, but it was difficult with Pendragon behind him, and Merlin was afraid that if he relaxed too much he’d end up with his ass in Pendragon’s crotch, which wasn’t the first impression he wanted to give. Pendragon’s head was so close to Merlin’s that he could feel his chin brushing his shoulder, and he was glad that Pendragon seemed to be focussing more on the target than him, because he could feel his face heating up. His bow arm was adjusted into position, and after a few moments, Pendragon whispered in his ear, “Three… two…one.”

Merlin let go of the string, and watched as his arrow soared through the air, not wavering as it had been before, and hit the red ring. Unable to stop himself, Merlin cheered.

“Thanks,” he said, turning round, a grin on his face. “What are you, an actual medieval knight who’s travelled to the future? No one’s that good at jousting and archery.”

“My father runs the Faire; I’ve been horse riding and shooting arrows since I could walk.” He smiled. “You saw the jousting?”

Will snorted, and Merlin turned to look at him, having forgotten that he had been there while Pendragon had been showing him how to shoot.

“He was fascinated by the whole thing. Wouldn’t take his eyes off it.”

“Shut up, Will,” Merlin hissed, then said to Pendragon, “It was interesting, it’s not something you usually see outside of TV and films. Is the guy who was in the final with you alright?”

“Valiant? He’s fine, just a sore loser. I’m Arthur, by the way.” He held his hand out, and Merlin shook it.

“Merlin.”

“Well, Merlin, do you reckon you still need my help?”

“I’ll give it a shot on my own.”

Arthur took a step back, crossed his arms, and watched, looking expectant. Merlin repeated the actions that Arthur had shown him, aware that he was watching him, and he couldn’t stop his intestines turning into lead as he nervously raised the bow, released the arrow and –

Missed.

He didn’t dare turn around. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and knew that he’d probably gone the same colour as a tomato. Merlin couldn’t hear any laughing from behind him, but he assumed that was because Arthur was too polite to laugh at someone he’d only just met; he had probably hidden his mouth behind a hand and was silently snickering.

“You changed your stance from how it was before, let me show you again…” Arthur said, his voice getting closer, and then he was stood behind Merlin again.

Arthur showed Merlin how to shoot the arrow again, staying behind Merlin as he released it, and once again it hit the red ring. With only one arrow left now, Arthur helped set Merlin up for the shot, and then took a few paces back, letting Merlin release the arrow on his own. Merlin stared at the target, allowing his hands to adjust to the positions they were in, and preparing himself to let go of the string. He closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, opened his eyes again, and released the arrow.

It crossed the range in a heartbeat, and landed in the yellow circle in the centre of the target.

Merlin felt his jaw drop.

“I did it!” He said, turning around to stare at Arthur.

“Well done.” Arthur smiled at him.

Behind Arthur, Will rolled his eyes and stood up; he had found a pile of boxes to sit on and had been talking to Arthur’s friends, having used up all of his arrows ten minutes ago.

“Are we moving on now?” Will asked.

“Sure,” said Merlin. “No need to look so grumpy though, it was your idea to do the archery.”

“I wasn’t expecting to have to sit and watch you for ages. It’s not a great spectator sport.”

“You don’t like watching anything.”

Merlin handed his bow back to the person dressed in peasant clothes who was manning the range, and they walked a short way away from it, so as to not get in anyone’s way, with Arthur and his friends joining them.

“Where are you off to now?” asked Arthur.

“No idea.” Merlin looked at Will, who shrugged. “Just wandering around the stalls, I guess.”

“I think that’s what we were planning, mind if we join?” Arthur glanced around at his group of friends, as if asking for their permission to ask Merlin. They all wore knowing looks when they nodded at Arthur, and Merlin was suddenly nervous – what did they know that he didn’t?

He could hardly ask them, however, with Arthur standing in front of him, a smile on his lips that showed a sliver of white teeth and made Merlin’s stomach turn to jelly. He tried to mentally clear his head for a second, so that he didn’t make a decision based purely on the fact that Arthur was hot, and athletic – there must be decent muscle hidden underneath the chainmail – and was smiling at him a lot. But Arthur’s smile widened, and Merlin couldn’t help smiling back.

“No problem.”

Will was going to kill him later.

They started walking, not paying attention to which direction they were going in. Arthur briefly introduced Merlin to his friends – Gwaine, Lancelot, and Leon – and then changed his stride so that he was walking with Merlin.

Arthur talked almost constantly, though Merlin could only hear half of it due to the noisy crowd, and all he had to do was pay attention to Arthur enough to nod and smile in the right places. But, the more Arthur talked, the more he looked at Merlin, always seeing what Merlin thought of what he was saying, his eyes jewel bright, and smile wide. Merlin found himself paying more attention to Arthur than he was to the items for sale, and he all but forgot about Will and Arthur’s friends behind them.

It turned out that Arthur had grown up around the corner from Merlin, but they had gone to different schools and had thus never met. He also had an older sister, who was estranged from their father but who Arthur still spoke to on occasion. Arthur talked about himself a lot, asking Merlin the odd question about whether he had any brothers or sisters (“no”), what he had studied at university (“History”), or why he had come to the Faire (“Will dragged me”). The more Arthur talked though, the more Merlin found himself offering his own opinion, until it was less Arthur talking and Merlin answering questions, and more an actual discussion between the two of them. Merlin couldn’t help it, it was all too easy to tell Arthur things, and to give him his honest opinion. At one point, Arthur had asked him what he thought about the Renaissance Faire, and rather than a generic “yeah, it’s great”, Merlin had spoken for ten minutes about how, despite the historical inaccuracies making him want to bite his own hand off – which Arthur had laughed at – it was enjoyable, and made history accessible to everyone.

There was just something about Arthur that made Merlin smile, and talk without a care in the world.

They wandered around talking for hours. Merlin hardly noticed that the crowds were thinning, and it was only when he noticed that some of the stalls were packing up did he think to check the time. It was half past five, and they had managed to find themselves at the exit.

“It was nice meeting you,” said Merlin. He felt awkward saying goodbye; talking to Arthur had been so easy and enjoyable that he didn’t want to ever stop. It felt weird asking for his number though, for all he knew Arthur attached himself to someone at all of these things and spent the day talking to them and never again; it would explain how he talked so openly and knew exactly what to say to fill the silences if he had had plenty of practice.

“Yeah.” Arthur hesitated. “Do you want to meet up some time? I dunno, for coffee or something?”

Despite his easy going manner, Arthur looked nervous now: he was biting his lip and refusing to look Merlin in the eyes, preferring instead to stare at his chin so intensely that Merlin thought he had something there.

“I’d love to,” Merlin said. Arthur’s eyes snapped up to meet Merlin’s, smiling, once again.

“Great. That’s great, erm – hang on, stay here.”

Arthur rushed off down one of the streets, leaving Merlin bemused. He wondered if he had spotted someone that he knew. Arthur’s friends were stood not far off and he turned to them, raising an eyebrow in question, and they shook their heads.

“You’ve had it now, mate,” one of them said. “You’ll never get rid of him.”

A few minutes later, Arthur reappeared with one hand behind his back, hiding something. He didn’t reveal it to Merlin until he was standing right in front of him again.

It was a red waxed rose.

They had passed the stall selling them earlier, and had stopped there for a moment. Arthur had commented on how they looked dewy, and Merlin had said that he liked them like that, and that the red ones looked even more vibrant than they did un-waxed. Arthur had hummed in agreement, and then moved on to the next stall, where they had been selling hand painted notebooks.

Arthur was holding the stem between his forefinger and thumb, just like he’d shown Merlin to hold the bow earlier. Merlin picked it out of Arthur’s grasp.

“Thanks.”

Arthur smiled at him.

Merlin smiled back.


End file.
